It’s not the kind of song that should be repeated everyday.

But the poem to remind us of the past when days went bad.

Even if it happened four hundred years ago and thousands of kilometers away.

———–

I was given a seashell on the last day.

I contemplated the possibility of our friendship, and finally said thanks.

This wouldn’t work, but we were chained together, we were born for trade.

———–

I led the procession out of the dungeon with all my might.

I had survived the riverside, the long journey down south, and the tunnels in this sickly white castle.

But beyond that door, where do the boats go?

———–

We passed the courtyard and the sky was grey.

Remember that blistering day when she was out there, under the thirsty gazes like a golden prey?

I couldn’t help but wish the cannonball dragged by her feet was ignited and that would’ve saved her from all the pain and shame.

———–

The slit on the wall was the end of this castle.

I saw bayhops crawling all the way along the shore, purple flowers blooming like jewels.

They shone brighter than the white mottled sandstone walls, and any of the prospectors’ soul.

———–

The spray splashed on my face as I looked back at the castle.

Your fragile body leaned on me as the deck rocked with the sea roar.

I watched the stars shining in the evening sky, wondering if I would ever survive to recognize one.

River on Baltic Sea

• 藍芽之復尋
• 樹檸檬
• Robson
• Only and Nothing
• Bora and Shui